


you know there is one last song, now the band is giving it their all

by who_won_the_race_back_home



Series: she said we're doing pretty good if we can just get out alive [6]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, Gen, References to Depression, References to suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 18:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_won_the_race_back_home/pseuds/who_won_the_race_back_home
Summary: On the other side of the door he found Sara, a half-finished bottle of whiskey in one hand, and one of the Bureau’s memory erasing guns in the other. She had a fire in her eyes that he had only seen while she plotted Damien Darhk’s death.“You are a dumb son of a bitch,” Sara said, shouldering her way past Rip into his apartment.





	you know there is one last song, now the band is giving it their all

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to put another warning that there is some talk of suicidal ideation in here. There's nothing graphic, but if that's a trigger for you, just another fair warning.
> 
> Title from Lucero's "The Last Song"

It was nearly 11 at night, and Rip had finally gotten home to his small one bedroom in Star City. Ray Charles had ended up in the heart of the Delta blues in 1925, and Rip had a hell of a time trying to get him to leave. He had sent everyone else home, even Ava, whose persistent need to stay late and work harder than anyone else just made him feel guilty at this point, and filed the paperwork on his own.

By the time he was home, he was starving, the busy day leaving no room for a lunch break. Luckily he had leftover Chinese and one sad Corona from the last time he had let Gary come over to watch football, his best attempt at trying to have a friend since starting the Bureau. Just as he sat down to eat and watch an episode of Quantum Leap, a preposterous show that Ray had convinced him to try, there was a loud banging at the door. He glanced at the clock on his microwave, checking that he had the time right, and grabbed his pistol, even though anyone who actually wanted to hurt him would’ve just come in and done so.

On the other side of the door he found Sara, a half-finished bottle of whiskey in one hand, and one of the Bureau’s memory erasing guns in the other. She had a fire in her eyes that he had only seen while she plotted Damien Darhk’s death.

“You are a dumb son of a bitch,” Sara said, shouldering her way past Rip into his apartment.

“Please, come in,” Rip said to the empty hall.

“You gonna shoot me?” she asked, gesturing to his gun with her own.

Rip sighed and put the gun back in the drawer he pulled it from. “No, I-it’s been a long day.” It took a few extra seconds to realize that Sara shouldn’t even be here at all. They weren’t due to run into each other for another year or so.

“How did you-Did Gideon tell you where I live? And where did you get a mind wipe gun?” he asked.

“No, Ava did. And I stole it. From you. Future you.”

“That, well, makes a lot of sense, I suppose. But wait, Agent Sharpe?”

“Yup. Oh!” Sara put the bottle down on the kitchen table, giving her a free hand to punch Rip hard in the arm. “Before I left, she told me to give that to you. For lying to her.”

“Oi! Ow. About-”

“You know why, Rip. About being a fucking clone.”

Rip looked like a deer caught in headlights before his shoulders slumped in resignation and he  began to rub his temples. “She knows?”

“She’s smarter than all of us. You honestly didn’t think you’d be able to hide it forever, did you?”

“I suppose not.” He motioned towards the table, pulling out a chair for Sara. “I must say, I’m surprised you two are on friendly terms.”

“It’s something like that,” she said mischievously, slipping out of her anger for a second. And Rip laughed as he sat down with her. His best agent, falling into bed with Sara Lance, his dashing  successor. He thought he had long stopped being surprised by the world.

“But that’s not why I’m here. Have a drink, Rip,” Sara said, already pouring into a leftover glass on the table. “I put Zari in charge so I don’t have to be a responsible captain, and I want to yell at you some more.”

“Zari Tomaz? From 2042?” Rip asked. Sara nodded and handed him a full glass while he huffed an impressed sound. The smell alone made him pull a face, and it burned terrible going down. “Jesus, Sara, is this straight from the bathtub?”

“I didn’t get it for you, I got it for me, and if you think you deserve the good stuff, well, buddy, I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig, shaking off the taste.

Rip paused a moment, saw the way Sara couldn’t quite meet his eyes, hadn’t been able to since she barged through the door, and it clicked. “I’ve died, haven’t I?”

“Yeah. Yeah you did.” Sara took another hard swallow, wincing. “And that’s why you’re a dumb son of a bitch.”

He was quiet for a long while, staring down at his drink. Sara didn’t look much older than when he had left them four years ago.

“How?” Rip asked, eventually. Sara gave him a look that said she couldn’t. “You’re already here, and you’re going to wipe my memory anyway. I’d like to know.”

Sara eyed the flash gun in front of her. “Trying to stop Mallus. To buy us time.” Rip gave her a confused look at her pronunciation. “Also yeah, turns out we were saying his name wrong the whole time.”

That got Rip to chuckle, though it was weak and half hearted.

“You sacrificed yourself so we could save the goddamn day,” Sara said.

“You beat him?” He knew the answer. Neither of them would be sitting in his kitchen if they hadn’t. But he still wanted to hear it from her.

“We did,” Sara said with a sad smile. “Wish you could’ve seen it. It was...insane. Even for us.”

“I can only imagine then.”

Rip could feel the heat of Sara’s stare, aimed right at his chest. She still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“And you didn’t let me say goodbye, you fucking monologued at me. And I’m fucking pissed at you,” she said, her teeth gritted, finger jabbing in his direction. “I know you had to give your big speech, and had to be stoic fucking Captain Hunter, but I didn’t get to say goodbye, and it’s bullshit.”

“That does sound like me.” He took another sip of his drink, certain that it could not legally be called whiskey. “I’ve been expecting this for a long time, Sara. I got, or I suppose, have more years than I anticipated.”

Rip couldn’t read Sara’s expression. Angry, yes, but there was something underneath it, a deep sadness, and confusion.

“I always worried that when I went it would be selfish. To just stop this,” he said, tapping a finger to his head. “There were-so many times I wanted to do it. Gun to the temple, sucked into the temporal zone, eaten by a damn dinosaur. Anything to make it stop. Then I met you lot. My merry band of idiots.” Sara dropped the anger for a moment, to smirk fondly at Ava’s turn of phrase. “And I had a real purpose. I had a real family again.”

Sara finally looked him in the eye.

“You all made me want to live. And I did. I am,” Rip said, motioning towards himself. “I know I never said that, but I always hoped you knew. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Fuck you,” Sara said, without any fight behind it, only a resignation that told Rip that he probably didn’t have any other choice but to sacrifice himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It might not have been true when we first met, but know that what I did, it was because I won’t be able to see any other way to save you. To save your team.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “You finally got your scrawny ass killed, when you least wanted it.”

“Well, our line of work does have its fair share of cruel ironies, doesn’t it?”

Sara tilted her chair back, took another sip. “That it does,” she said to the ceiling. Tilting back down, she looked back at him. “I should go. We’re going on a family vacation to Aruba.”

“Sounds like you all have earned it,” Rip said with a laugh. “Sure you don’t want to stay a while longer? I’ve got a bottle of scotch around here somewhere.”

“No, I should really go. I just-I needed to say goodbye,” Sara said, looking past Rip, through his living room window, out at a fraction of the Star City skyline. “On my terms.”

Rip stood, tugged at Sara’s arm and pulled her into a hug. Stunned, it took Sara a moment, but eventually she wrapped her arms around his back, clutching tight.

“I love you, you fucking moron,” she said, quiet and into his shoulder.

“Me too.” Rip quickly kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek there. They stood like that for long minutes, no tears, no desperate words. It was never like that. Just a solid grasp, and unspoken understanding.

“Please take care of Gideon, she was my only family for quite a long time. She saved me more times than I can count,” he said into her hair.

“Don’t worry, I’d be lost without her too,” Sara said, breaking away from him to take the last swig of whiskey and grab the flash gun.

Rip followed her towards the door, taking a deep breath, steeling himself for forgetting. As she stepped over the threshold to turn back towards him, he saw her shoulders sag, heard her breath of resignation.

“For the record,” he said, “Whatever sappy nonsense I said to you before I went, I meant every word of it.”

She huffed out a quick laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

Suddenly, everything went white, and Rip found himself standing in front of his closed apartment door, unsure how he got there. His dinner was cold on the kitchen counter, an empty whiskey bottle on his table that he didn’t recall buying.

**Author's Note:**

> Rip is a character that means a lot to me, and while I understand the practical reasons why he was killed off, I'm still real upset about it. 
> 
> Come be sad with me over on [tumblr.](http://angrypedestrian.tumblr.com)


End file.
